


Death's Beloved

by Fallen_angel_of_time23



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hannibal is Death, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, mythology aspects
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2018-10-25 05:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10757982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_angel_of_time23/pseuds/Fallen_angel_of_time23
Summary: The dates and times on your wrist tell you three things: 1) When you will finish your life goal, 2) when you will meet your soulmate, and 3) when you will die.Lucky for Will Graham, his times happen to all be minutes apart...





	1. Death's Beloved

* * *

 

It was time. He had fought against it for so long. Will’s eyes flicked down to his wrist, unfocused and distant they scanned over the date and times marked there.

August 29th 2013 – 11:58 pm. August 29th 2013 – 11:59 pm. August 30th 2013 – 12:00 am.

He knew what the black tattoos scrawling across his wrist meant – everyone had a similar one. The first was when you would accomplish your lifelong goal, the second when you would meet your soulmate and the third when you would die. Luckily for him, all the times on his wrist were minutes apart. As for why it was unlucky, well, no one wanted to never be able to live with their soulmate. He’d tried his hardest to make his times change. As rare as it was, there were stories of some who’d managed the feat. He’d tried everything, from praying to attempting suicide, but it was always met with the same outcome – nothing. Prayers went unanswered, and he was always found and saved before death could claim him. He’d eventually stopped trying, letting destiny carry him to his fate, numb to the pity people tossed his way.

Will believed it was easier this way – living alone, surrounded by dogs and acres of empty land. People were distracting, what with all the pity and sorrow clouding their eyes. He didn’t need them to feel bad for him. After his third and last suicide attempt in high school, he had accepted that he would never have a life with the person he was destined to love. Instead, he poured his life and love into his passions and dreams. Fishing and writing became his escape from work, people, and the harsh reality in which he lived.

Now he stood at his front door, key halfway to the lock, eyes on his wrist. Today was the day. August twenty-ninth. The inevitable was closing in, and all he could do was heave a sigh. Finally, he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, unlocked his door, and went inside. His herd of happy dogs greeted him, causing him to remain by the door to properly say hello and goodbye to each one. It was the buzzing of his cell that eventually forced him to move, setting down his keys and pulling out his phone. Jack’s number glowed under his phone’s clock, the time mocking him as it slowly ticked away. 8:00 pm. Four hours, the voice in his head whispered. Too long. Will hit the decline button, ignoring the call. _Not tonight, Jack. Of all the nights, definitely not tonight._

Despite his oncoming death, a small smile appeared on his face as he walked into his bedroom, gaze falling onto the moonlit writing desk on which rested a book. Published under a pseudonym, the book was Will’s first step in achieving his life goal to change the world and be remembered after his death. It hadn’t so much been his ego as it was fear of fading from existence that had created the goal.

But now, a sense of calm washed through him as he took a seat and slid his book from the center of the desk to the top left corner to make room for the last draft of his second and final book. He pulled it from the top drawer to his right – it was sitting carefully atop the stack of previous rough drafts. His first book had taken off, becoming a bestseller for four consecutive years, and remaining in the top five for two more. The time stamp on his wrist told him he would succeed (although it could be argued that he had already), but that his last book would be published posthumously. Aware and uncaring, of the fact he wouldn’t experience the joy of publication again, he nevertheless lost himself in a final editing session with a carefree smile. At least this book would have his real name on the cover. If you couldn’t escape your fate, you might as well embrace it. Will had learned that lesson long ago.

As fate had decreed, when he set his pen down for the last time, final draft complete, the clock read 11:58. Deciding he had a moment to spare (and not wanting to meet his soulmate in the bedroom, of all places), he headed to the kitchen for a celebratory glass of wine. A man appeared as his tongue touched sweet, red liquid for the first time that night. Will’s eyes widened slightly as he shakily set his glass back down on the counter, taking in the sight before him. Only slightly taller, but with an ethereal air of confidence Will could never hope (literally, now) to emulate, the man that stood before him sported an immaculate dark plaid suit and bittersweet expression with equal grace and naturalness. His silver-streaked hair had been combed back into smooth but slightly choppy swoops, and Will could catch a glimpse of piercing amber eyes from underneath their soft streaks. The man spoke first, voice warm but words sending a shiver down Will’s spine. “I am Death,” was all he said before sweeping forward to taste the unswallowed wine on Will’s blood-stained lips. The clock struck midnight as their lips met and the sweet kiss of Death stole his breath and his soul.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Will woke up to darkness blanketing the room. Rolling over in the bed, he reached out for his bedside lamp and upon finding it, flicked it on. He sat up with a yawn, then felt his eyes grow wide when he saw he wasn’t in his room. The suite sized bedroom was magnificent – Roman in taste, with white marble walls and high ceilings. Furnished with what appeared to be ludicrously expensive possessions, Will found himself awestruck by the sight before him.

Awe gave way to confusion and surprise, which clouded his mind as he hesitantly got out of bed with the intention of exploring. He noticed the balcony doors were open to let in a warm night breeze and, drawn to the view he’d seen, he walked towards them. He hesitated when he saw a figure standing with its back to him, but when calm instead of fear seeped into his heart, he found the courage to approach the man. Will was welcomed with kind eyes and a warm smile, which he returned effortlessly (to his surprise). Still unsure of where he was and who he was with, Will tried his best to review his memories, only to find he couldn’t recall them. A hazy barrier, which was slowly ebbing away to his relief, kept them at bay for the moment.

“You are awake. I was curious as to how long you would sleep.” Will smiled as he gazed at the starry sky, but his brows creased when the realization came to him.

“You’re Death… and my soulmate…” His voice trailed off in a wary whisper as the now-dubbed Death nodded. “Where is the moon, Death?” He could feel his memories slowly returning to him as he gazed out at the infinite space.

“It has yet to die. Therefore, it cannot exist upon this plane.” Death paused a moment before continuing. “Tell me, what was it like to die?” The soft voice snapped him back to awareness, memories flooding in, but the last thing he remembered was the kiss. His confusion manifested as sassiness as he responded.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You do not remember?” Death pursed his lips at his love’s choice of language, but if he disapproved, he didn’t address it.

“I remember you kissing me and then I woke up here. Are you telling me I died, then?” Even as he asked, the answer was made evident by his blank wrist. The dates and times only left if the act had been fulfilled. He was indeed dead.

“Contrary to the epics of old, you could not join me here unless you were dead. So, in short, yes. You died as we kissed.”

“The kiss of Death. I could kill you for being so cliché.” Will chuckled, relaxing a bit more in Death’s presence. Of course the man he was destined to spend eternity with thrived on cliché puns.

“Darling, I am already dead,” Death chided halfheartedly, amused by the man’s fiery spirit which, even in the realm of the dead, had brought a spark of life. He would become a powerful reaper, Death realized, and the idea pleased him greatly. A gently kiss drew him from his thoughts.

“Care to share, love? What were you thinking about?” The pet name slid off Will’s tongue before he could catch it, but he didn’t care. After years of running, he’d finally learned fate’s plan for him – to love and be loved by this man – so why shouldn’t he start trusting in fate and in Death?

“You.” Death smiled down at him, wrapping him in a strong and surprisingly warm embrace.

“What about me?”

“Your future, specifically. You have the potential to become a very powerful reaper.”

“Oh. So now I have to work for my husband?” Will feigned annoyance, though his words carried weight.

“Alongside, not for. I would never treat you as anything but my equal. Speaking of which – please call me Hannibal. Death is merely a title. It is not my name. And we cannot keep calling each other pet names forever. Would a first name basis not be more appropriate, Will? We are soulmates after all.”

“U-um, yes we are soulmates. And yes, we should be, Hannibal. Now, if you would be so kind as to answer my question _love_ , how do I become this ‘powerful reaper’?” Will smirked defiantly.

“It is a process – a becoming, so to speak. But it starts with the taking of your first life.” Hannibal sighed at Will’s dramatics and focused on the question instead.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Will smirked again as he saw the fire dance behind Hannibal’s eyes. He said nothing, and for once, nothing was the only answer Will needed.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bracelet around his wrist caught the moonlight as his hand shot up to grip the jaw of the man before him. He had smoke in his eyes and Death at his back as he sucked the soul from yet another victim. As a murderer of families, this soul had been condemned to Hell. Hannibal had been right – his love carried a spark of life within his soul, and this stopped him from being able to reap the souls of the innocent. Will’s splinter of life caused him to empathize with them until he was incapable of taking their vibrant life. Death loved this about him, and was always there to reap those that Will couldn’t – Hannibal would never force him to give up his gift. However, when it came to the souls condemned to Hell, Will was merciless. Often finding pleasure in stealing their spark of life, he once admitted to Hannibal that doing bad things to bad people felt good and powerful. Hannibal’s response had merely been to smile in praise.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, many years later, Will Graham is still remembered. His last book has become a classic, the material helping to better the world even as years progressed. But he is also remembered by a different name. Mortis Cupitus. Death’s Beloved. His presence has found its way into mythology. Stories told in the dead of night describe the man who takes vengeance on those who have sinned. Some say he is made from smoke and justice, others say he is dark matter and starlight. But despite the variations and ambiguity within each account, one fact remains constant – the bracelet around his wrist. As the saying goes, the charm bracelet had been a celebratory gift from Death after his love’s first kill, and Death’s Beloved adds a charm to the bracelet for every life he takes. The jingling of the charms is the only warning you get that he is there, and the flash of moonlight on the bracelet as his hand rises to your jaw is the last thing you’ll remember seeing before he sucks out your soul.


	2. The Rules of Death, and the Compromises of Life Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will learns more about the world he is now a part of, and Hannibal discovers that Will isn't a mindless follower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who inspired me to keep writing I decided to wrap up some lose ends from the last chapter, and hopefully continue with this!! I hope you all enjoy this new addition!  
> ~ML

* * *

Will had no idea that being dead could still come with obligations and responsibility. Then again, he was a special case. According to Hannibal, being dead provides souls with peace, and leisure, or torture and unrest, depending on which one they deserve. Yeah, that's right, deserve. Apparently as Death, Hannibal is Judge, Jury, and Executioner in his realm. No matter what you did on top, death changes you, and if Hannibal decides at any point that you don't deserve the comforts he provides, he can immediately banish you to the part of his realm he reserves for those who displease him. Now Hannibal wasn't one who governed by fear, he had the respect of all who resided in his realm, who were on his good side that is. He really only had one rule that seemed to keep everything in working order: Don't be rude. Will found it trivial, but he couldn't deny its efficiency. Either way though, Will was sure he was the only one who was stressed about a job even in death.

It wasn't being dead that gave Will the cause of his current complaints, it was having a job even after being deceased. When Hannibal had told him he could become a powerful reaper who would work alongside his husband, it had sounded amazing. So, of course he didn't pass up the opportunity. Having been an officer - with his own moral code - before death, Will was able to settle into into his new role effortlessly. However, Will quickly learned that Hannibal had a habit of only telling people - though Will especially - half of the picture, keeping the finer, less appealing, details to himself. Therefore, Will didn't know that part of being this amazing reaper, also included wandering the streets of Hannibal's realm, and checking in with residents. If he was being honest, Will hated being sociable, and of course today was his first day of doing his rounds. 

It was morning if you wanted to call it that; some say time passes differently in the realm of the dead, others say time is an illusion all together. There is no sun, nor is there a moon to float across the sky and help establish time. The sky changes colors only when Hannibal decides it is time for a change. The stars are ever present - though depending on the color of the sky, sometimes it is harder to see them. The dead have no need for rest, so sleeping cannot establish the end of a day. In the end, it is the feasts that establish a sense of time. They are mandatory - though no one would want to miss the event. Three times a “day” if you will, Hannibal calls together the town for the Feast of Souls. One of said feasts was the reason Will had decided to start his rounds.

______________________________________________________________________________

“How are you okay with this?” Will asked, shocked and borderline mortified upon hearing Hannibal’s description of the Feast of Souls.

“What do you mean?” Hannibal asked coolly, amused his husband would have such a reaction, and curious as to why. 

“This is basically cannibalism!!” Will near shouted, voice growing slightly louder.

“Will, calm down. Please. It is no such thing.” Hannibal chided, though still amused by the situation. The souls - if you must call then that - which were consumed at the feast were in such low standing in Hannibal’s mind, they barely made it a mile below animals on the list. He would prefer them to be further down. 

“A soul consuming another soul? How is that not, in essence, a form of cannibalism?” Will retorted, gesturing to nothing in particular with his hands as he talked. 

“Well, technically, I’m -” Hannibal tried to correct Will, but was cut short by his spouse’s impatient temper at not being taken seriously.

“I KNOW YOU’RE NOT A SOUL! But those who dine at your table ARE. I AM! How can you sit back and watch as these people -”

“Souls -”

“Consume the essence of other souls completely unaware?” Will continued, ignoring Hannibal’s interjection. He was seething now, annoyed Hannibal wouldn’t take him seriously, angry he wasn’t receiving an explanation, and baffled by his husband’s reaction to all of this. 

“They are not souls. They are animals - less than animals actually.” Hannibal finally tried to explain, seeing Will slowly reach the end of his line. 

“Hannibal, that makes no sense. A soul is a soul no matter what.” Will shook his head, trying to understand this new culture and custom he had been thrown into.

“Will, maybe you would understand if you would just take part in -”

“No. I’m not having anything to do with your feasts.” Will rushed out, eyes snapping frantically to meet Hannibal’s. New culture or not, his old norms and values still resonated deep within him, and right now they were screaming that cannibalism was a NO!

“Alright, if that is what you wish, I will respect your decision.” Hannibal conceded. He knew he would not win Will over right then, and decided to choose his battles - saving this one for later.

“Thank you.” Will said, surprised by Hannibal’s respect of his wishes.

“Seeing as how you won’t join us,” Hannibal continued, because if he couldn’t win Will over, he would get the last jest in, “and the feast has now come to a close, perhaps you would find it suitable to begin your rounds. I know walks tend to clear your head.” The knowing smirk in Hannibal’s eyes made will’s anger burn bright. He opened his mouth to retort, thought better of it, turned, and stormed from the house. If Hannibal wanted him gone, then so be it; Will would walk it off. Too bad that included being sociable while he was already in a bad mood.

______________________________________________________________________________ 

Will stopped at a quaint little house; a garden of vegetables and flowers was planted just behind a short fence, half hidden by flags, windmills, and the other garden decor that had been lovingly added - in excess. He had walked to the farthest corner of Hannibal’s domain in the hopes that his sour mood would wear down enough for him to begin his check-ins. Thankfully, he was right, and after reaching his destination, he decided to start with the little house that just screamed grandmother. 

The door opened when he was halfway up the path, revealing a short, gray-haired woman, whose smile almost rivaled the sun. 

“Welcome! Welcome! Come in, please! Sit down. Sit down. Anywhere works,” she babbled off to him with energy he didn’t know she possessed as she ushered him through the door. “Would you like anything to eat or drink, hun? I know us souls don’t necessarily need the stuff, but my tongue can still taste so keep tasting I shall.” 

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m okay for now. Unfortunately I won’t be staying too long.” Will returned her knowing smile with an apologetic one of his own before she disappeared into the kitchen to fetch herself some refreshments. She returned with a plate of calas and beignets - Will’s favorite Louisiana desserts - and a tumbler of whiskey. Will’s face must have betrayed his surprise because she let out a small laugh.

“What are you doing with your jaw dropped so low, boy? Come now, not every grandma is cookie-cutter predictable.” Will found himself laughing along to her words with an ease he didn’t know he could obtain. “Now, call me psychic, or just well attuned with how this place works, I don’t care. But I learned long ago that those who are new here carry with them remnants of where they came from, and if you know how, you can pick up on them and read ‘em. Now while I’m a Northern California child, I’ve traveled enough, and met enough people after being down here, to know a little about where you came from.” She gently pushed the plate across the table so he could reach the pastries  as she poured two glasses of the whiskey. “Now I can’t read minds, but I hope you like these. Hard to go wrong with tradition, but then again there’s always those few who prove ya wrong.” Despite her words, Will got the sense that the twinkle in her eye meant she knew more than she was letting on. Either way, he wasn’t about to pass up Louisiana pastries and whiskey, and he took a bite out of a beignet before accepting the glass she was holding out to him.

“Now,” she continued, sitting down across from him, “let’s get back to business. You didn’t stop by here for no reason now did you?” She paused for a moment to sip at her own whiskey. “What’s your name, hun? My name is Mira Greenwald, but you can call me Auntie ‘M’, or Mimi. Your choice.” She sat back and waited for Will to finish his beignet, neither in any sort of rush.

“My name is Will Graham. I’m, um, sure you’ve heard of me by now. I’m kinda soulmates with Hannibal…” Will, despite starting off well, let his sentence fade away. Before awkwardness could descend upon them, Mira continued on.

“Oh my heavens! You’re the one who all the fuss is about? My dear, you have this whole place buzzing!  _ Everyone  _ wants to meet you! You had us all up in a bunch when you didn’t show at the feast, you know.” When she saw Will’s panicked expression she quickly reassured him. “Now don’t go fretting! Breathe, hun. No one here is going to bombard you. We get newbies here all the time, so it’s not uncommon to see an unfamiliar face. Besides me, and Hannibal of course, no one else knows your face, so you’ll be just fine. Besides, even if someone does recognize you for whatever reason, it would be tremendously rude of them to call unwanted attention to you - and you know how well that husband of yours tolerates the rude.” She winked and humor returned to Will’s eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “No one here is that brave. We all have manners, Will. It is wonderful to have met you though, my dear.” 

From there the conversation spins away from Will, and back to Mira. She talked all about her life before she died, her husband and kids, where she traveled, friends she met, events she lived through, as well as her life after death. Will was surprised with how long she had been here for - 40 years, Earth time. 

“Don’t you miss your husband?” 

“Of course I do! I miss all of my kids and grandkids too. But I know that I will see them all again some day. Everyone dies eventually - though Albert sure is taking his sweet fucking time.”  

“W-What?” Will’s only reaction to hearing Mira curse was to laugh it off.

“Oh yeah! That old geezer has been in a coma on life support for the past… oh ten or twenty years or so. You see the kids have the payment plan setup, and enough money to support it, and then got busy, and forgot about him. No one has noticed long enough to think about pulling the plug on him, and the machines are doing their jobs well enough that he can’t just let go.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Oh, it’s not really. Neither one of us would want our kids wasting their time on us. We’re happy they are living their lives. Plus he still comes to visit me every once in awhile. Damn near gives the medical staff a heart attack every time, but it is nice to see him. Crazy bastard says it’s the only excitement he gets nowadays - seeing me and watching them scramble for his life.”

“There’s no way for him to die? Are you sure? Maybe Hannibal can help!” Will said in a scrambled rush. 

“Slow down, hun. It’s okay. I’ve already talked to Hannibal long ago. As understanding as he was, there is nothing he can do.”

“What do you mean? He’s Death.”

“He may be Death, Will, but he’s not God. There are rules to life, just as there are rules to death. One of the main ones being that if it isn’t someone’s time, there’s nothing you can do. Even Hannibal has to obey the rules sometimes.” 

“But…”

“Rules, are rules, Will. If you break them, there will be consequences, even for Death.”

“I think I understand…”

“You will fully, with time.” Her smile was warm and reassuring, and all Will could do was let his worries melt away and just believe in her words. 

“Can I ask you one more question Mimi?” Will asked, hesitant about the topic he was about to bring up.

“Of course! What is you want to know?”

“Why does Hannibal consider some souls below others? Isn’t a soul a soul no matter what?” He asked, eyes fixed to the swirling whiskey in his hand. He raised them when he heard the smile in Mira’s voice.

“I thought the same thing too. I was as religious as they came when I first arrived. We all have to learn at our own paces Will, but we don’t have to learn alone. You see everything down here works different - time, space, bodily functions; we don’t need to eat or sleep, and yes, even souls. You see, it is possible for a soul to be corrupted, for it to become so twisted and gnarled that it no longer resembles even a trace of what it once was. On Earth we called these souls Demons. Down here, we don’t have a name. But they are viewed as the lowest you could possible be, further down in savagery than animals. A curse and burden to this world. And, viewed as a plague, we try to wipe them out. To become this thing, Will, you must understand there is no reversing it, no saving the soul it used to be. They become something new entirely, something ugly. It is these that we feast on. I too once shied away from the Feasts, disgusted and ashamed. But I promise you, Will, this world is not Earth, and those things are not souls.” She paused for a moment, assessing Will’s reaction before adding, “Give yourself some time to acclimate, and adjust. Integration into a new society - let alone world - takes time. But hopefully I will see you at one of the next Feasts. My philosophy has always been: Ya can’t bash it till you’ve done it.” Will chuckled at that, before exhaling heavily. His brain was starting to hurt from all of the information he received. 

“I think it’s time for me to leave.” He smiled, nodding toward the door. Mira smiled back with understanding.  

“Oh Honey, you have all the time in the word, but I’ll let you get back to Hannibal. I’ve kept you long enough.”

“Thank you, for everything, Mimi.” He said, swallowing the last of his whiskey. 

“No need to thank me, honey.” They both rose from the couch and headed to the door, Mira pulling Will in for a hug before he could escape out the door. 

“Oh hey - If that husband of yours starts to get on your nerves like all husbands can, just come back over here. I’ll have fresh pastries and a full glass of whiskey waiting.” She called after Will as he walked down the garden path on her lawn. He turned with a raised hand, waving as he called back.

“Sure thing, Mimi. I’ll make sure to remember that.”

* * *


	3. The Past and the Present pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long to write! To anyone who still follows this story, thank you so much you mean the world to me! I haven't forgotten about this, nor have I given up on it. I just firmly believe in not posting something I don't have confidence in. So please enjoy this chapter. I do have the next few mapped out and in the process. Hopefully those won't take another couple years.

Jack hung up his phone with a curse, throwing it at his couch in defeat before stalking over to it, picking it back up, and dialing a new number.

“Alana?”

“Yes, Jack, I know. If you’re calling me then that means you weren’t able to reach him-” Jack listened as a sob cut off her sentence, waiting politely for her to collect herself and continue. “It’s past midnight now so I believe it is safe to assume he’s gone.”

“I’m about to head up there. No sense in leaving him there overnight. I called to see if you wanted to come along for the ride? You can wait in the car while my boys take care of him, I just figured you’d want to be the one to find his book and take charge of the dogs. With your history and all, I owe you both at least that.” Jack’s level voiced surprised himself, but he was thankful for it. He supposed years of working law enforcement and having to deal with breaking bad news to good people helped prepare him for moments like this.

“I appreciate this, Jack. I would like to be there.”

“I’ll pick you up in fifteen. Be ready.” He hung up the phone as his wife appeared in the archway to the room, a sad but knowing look in her eyes. Bella could always read Jack just as easily as he could spot a lying criminal, and tonight was no exception. Without a word she held out her hand, drawing him into a gentle kiss when he took it in his. He let himself draw strength and comfort from her kiss before gently parting them and then heading off to Alana and then Will.

___

It was a little past two when Jack and Alana finally arrived at Will’s house. Jack’s crew was already there waiting patiently outfront, having carried out his orders to go in, find the body, bring it out, and not touch anything else. Jack parked the car and then got out, heading straight to his men. He let Alana do whatever she needed to do.

“Tell me what you’ve got,” he demanded. Price was the first to speak up.

“We’ve got nothing, Jack.”

“The Hell you mean you’ve got nothing? People don’t die from nothing, no matter what the time is on their fucking wrist. Especially not people like Will Graham. You better be joking with me Price, and then you better be rethinking that joke.” His eyes narrowed at the man before him who looked over at his partner for help.

“He’s not lying and we aren’t joking, Jack.” Zeller sighed, glancing behind him at the dark house. He gestured at it with his hand before continuing. “We found him in the kitchen. Thought he had been shot from the dark pool he was in before we realized it was just wine from a glass he toppled over as he fell. There’s no evidence anyone else was in the house, and after looking him over, there’s no trace he died from anything. The wine was his, found traces on his lips, its clean though. So is he. No poison, no bullet or stab wounds. No defensive marks or strangulation. There’s no signs of foul play or natural causes. Nothing. Not even a heart attack. It’s like his soul just left his body and he fell. Fit as a fiddle, he just died.” Price nodded in silent agreement as Jack scowled.

“That’s impossible. The world doesn’t work like that. We all have a date and time on our wrist but we don’t drop dead from nothing. It’s always something. Car crash, murder, disease, suicide, something. It is never nothing, so you two better give me something.”

“We’ll take him back to the lab, run some more tests and do another autopsy. We probably just missed something. We’ll let you know when we find something.” Jack nodded his head once, dismissing them with a wave. He looked back at his car and noticing Alana was no longer inside, headed for Will’s house.

He found her in the living room, sitting in one of Will’s chairs with the dogs all around her; some sitting and some laying down. There was a manuscript on her lap. He didn’t approach her, instead walking to the opposite wall to stare blankly at a photo, allowing her space.

“He said he was working on a book, but…” her hands gently stroked over the top page as she stared down at it, “I didn’t know it was a sequel.” This made Jack turn, but before he could voice his surprise Alana continued. “And not just any sequel,” she looked up, meeting his eyes, “he wrote _Our Demons Inside_ , Jack. This is his sequel. He is, was- Oh God, he was Albert Finigan!” She looked away as soon as the tears started to fall.

“What’s this one called?”

“ _Forgiveness Can Kill_ ,” she whispered, as if saying the titled aloud might bring him back. Jack nodded his head, walking over to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. Standing next to her like this gave him a clear view of the kitchen and Jack saw the pool of wine on the floor. Despite the heavy moment, he couldn’t help commenting.

“Since when did Will drink wine?” Alana’s head turned to look up at him, brow raised.

“He didn’t. He always drank whiskey - the cheap stuff when he ran out of the good. He didn’t even own a bottle of wine. Why do you ask, Jack?”

“Because when my boys found him, he had been drinking wine.” Alana just shook her head, confused, before suddenly drawing in a sharp breath.

“Jack! Are you sure it was him? His times were minutes apart. Someone else had to have been here! The wine could be theirs!”

“I know. I have my boys looking into it, Alana. But it’s not as simple as a glass on the table. They found him in a pool of it, which means he had been holding the glass - or at least had his hand really close to it - when he fell. It was on his lips too. He was the one who was drinking it. Now, do you have any idea why he might have randomly decided to switch it up and start drinking wine?”

“I don’t know, Jack.”

“There wasn’t anyone new in his life was there?” He watched as her eyes darkened with an angry fire.

“How dare you ask me that! You know perfectly well he didn’t have anyone else in his life besides me. Don’t you dare start insinuating shit so quickly. I might be your friend, and I might respect you from work, but I will not stand for you disrespecting him so easily.”

“Alana, I know this is hard for you - he was your soulmate after all. But you have to understand that you weren’t his, and I have every right to be sure his soulmate hadn’t arrived early. You are right - someone else had to be here, so I will do my job and follow every possibility. Even, if that means asking the hard questions.” She just stared him down as she changed the subject.

“I’m taking the dogs home. They can’t stay here and I’m tired. If you need anything else you know where to find me.” She stood up, and with a whistle the dogs did too. “I’ll have one of the boys take me home.” Jack let her leave without a word. He understood how hard this was for her. Unmatched soulmates were rare, but not unheard of.

Alana had met Will for the first time at an FBI charity dinner. She had been elated when she watched her soulmate timestamp disappear upon shaking his hand, only to feel her heart sink when his didn’t match. Will had been so shocked to discover he was someone’s soulmate, and so horrified he wasn’t her exact match that he asked if she wanted to give a relationship between them a try anyway. Once he explained how his times were messed up, and not for a couple more years, she agreed. Their relationship wasn’t perfect; Alana’s experience in therapy had her subconsciously trying to fix Will, and Will’s heightened empathy didn’t let Alana’s pity for him go unnoticed. But they did their best, and she had gotten to love him for four years.

Once Alana was gone Jack took the time to walk the house, but the more time he spent there, the more Price and Zeller’s words rang true. There was no evidence of anyone else having been there. It really was as if Will Graham had just dropped dead.

___

The investigation lasted two years before Jack was forced to declare the case cold and move on. He never officially closed it though, holding out hope that maybe someday a clue would appear. After all, it’s not everyday you meet someone who was damn well near immortal until they day they just weren’t.

Alana had originally decided to adopt Will’s dogs out, but changed her mind after the first week. They knew her from her relationship with Will, and he had taught her all of their commands. She justified it by noting how obedient they were, and how much effort it would be finding new homes and teach the new owners all the commands. It was just easier to keep them.

Will's book was published within a month after his death. It hit the top of the charts and stayed there for two years before dropping. It never fell from the top five though, and became a well known classic. His name would never be forgotten, they all made sure of that.

___

Jack was graced with five years from the day Will died before he lost Bella.

Two weeks later Alana was married to Margot. Their timestamps told them they would live together for another fifty years before dying at the same time. They wanted a son.

___


	4. The Rules of Death, and the Compromises of Life Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will returns. Hannibal and he finally have a much-needed talk.

Mira had been right to Will’s delight. As he walked back to Hannibal’s - _house? No that wasn’t quite right. Tower? Closer. Mansion? Not quite. Castle? Yeah._ \- castle the streets which had previously been empty were now almost crowded with the people who had been at the Feast. However, every single one of them never gave him more than one cursory glance, apparently content with not getting to know every new stranger. Unlike when Will was still alive and had to deal with people staring at him, amongst other awkward social interactions, he could actually breathe down here. People weren’t crowding him, weren’t pining him under their gaze like a butterfly on a board. Not for the first time, Will found himself once again admitting just how affective Hannibal’s rule was and couldn’t stop the admiration and love from bubbling up within him. His soulmate truly was amazing enough to have created a near-perfect society for those after death. Will was never one for strict religious beliefs, but he was convinced now that if Heaven was real this was the closest anyone would get to it.

The walk back was rather long, the Realm having been around since before the dawn of time expanded far beyond what one would think possible. Thankfully, since souls in this realm neither tired nor obeyed time the same way, Will could walk briskly the entire duration. What would have been a multiple day journey on Earth was now a little under a two-hour walk. Still, it was enough time for Will to relax and take in his surroundings. Always the observant one he is, Will had noticed the odd city layout when he first looked out from Hannibal’s balcony. Instead of a grid system the roads seemed to meander and branch off at random points, some roads were narrow, some wide, some straight, and others so winding Will couldn’t help but wonder later just how effective that particular road was. He had also noticed the various heights of the buildings and abnormal spacing between them. He had originally waved it off, but now that he was taking a closer look he discovered the reason for this. Every building had a different cultural influence. He would be walking past a beautiful Japanese temple one minute and then find a skyscraper sandwiched between it and a New Mexico adobe. Two ‘blocks’ later he found a French castle next to a log cabin. And the people, he finally noted, were just as diverse as the buildings! Ages ranged from elderly to babies, and each one was clad in a different era of clothing style.

By the time he returned to the Castle his smile was so wide he couldn’t conceal the joy radiating from him. Yeah, he may have had a spat with Hannibal before leaving, but his walk had reminded him of a couple important points. Relationships take time, effort, and communication. Just because they are soulmates does not mean they would automatically fall into a perfect relationship. Small arguments, bickering, and the occasional fight were normal at the beginning as they both adjusted their habits and lives to accommodate the other. They just needed to keep doing what Will had done - take a break, cool down, and then come back level-headed and work together against the problem, not each other. Second, he was reminded that he had forever here. Hannibal would never expect him to change overnight, nor would he expect Will to lose his moral code. Just by looking around he knew Hannibal never enforced any form of assimilation; every version of every culture throughout history was represented here and it was extraordinary. Will would adapt, accept some elements of other cultures and share some of his, but he knew he would never be expected to ever deviate from his core self.

That reassurance and his joy were the first things Hannibal picked up on when Will walked in through the main doors.

“Welcome home, Will,” he said, smile soft and fond. Taking Will’s upbeat mood into account, Hannibal risked teasing him gently. “I trust you enjoyed your time amongst our people and it wasn’t too laboursome.” Will smiled at him as he rolled his eyes, walking over to kiss his husband’s cheek lightly.

“It was very enlightening, and while I believe it will take me some time before I can roam without sensory overload, I still find myself eagerly awaiting my next outing.” Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will, pulling him in as he rested his chin on Will’s curls as his husband continued on. “Would I be correct in assuming this is a daily task of mine?” Hannibal hummed in agreement before elaborating.

“It is a duty that comes with your position, but it is not a job, Will. So long as you are maintaining a proper amount of social interaction with our people you may have an outing as often or as infrequent as you’d like.” He paused a moment to step back, weaving Will’s arm through his, he began to escort Will on a walk around the castle. “If you need to begin slow and ease into these outings I understand. Perhaps you could start with one or two a week, and then adjust accordingly. These are a vital part of how everything functions here, so I do hope you don’t grow to resent this task.” They slowly passed through the sunroom and the kitchen as Will considered his reply, making Will giggle softly and Hannibal glance at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Not to entirely derail our very important conversation here, but why on Earth do you have a sunroom and a kitchen when we have neither a sun nor a need for food?” His laughter grew louder, forcing them to stop so Will could lean against an utterly entranced and bemused Hannibal to keep from falling over.

“To answer the first part of that, love, we are not on Earth.” Will shot a half-hearted glare at Hannibal, which the later rewarded with a smirk. “Second, a sun is just a star that is close enough to provide large quantities of light and heat. I could, any time I wish, pull one of our stars close enough to mirror the effects of your sun. During that time I would readily make use of our sunroom. However, I have found that I - and apparently most of our people - are quite fond of how the sky looks. Our compromise for the lack of a sun is to just brighten or darken the sky to reflect the wanted outcome: morning or night.” By the time he finished explaining the sunroom, Will had stopped laughing and was now nodding along thoughtfully.

“And the kitchen?”

“Well, now that has a purpose. While souls don’t need nourishment in the form of food, you can still taste and many enjoy cooking or baking for the sole reason of tasting food. We have a kitchen in case you ever want anything. We have this specific kitchen because it is large enough to accommodate all the cooking for my feasts, and yet small enough for me to do any personal cooking I fancy.” Will regarded the kitchen with a mix of curiosity and contempt. _So this is where those souls are butchered and prepared on a silver platter for everyone to consume._ Noting the sour shift in Will’s mood, Hannibal gently placed a hand on the small of his back and led them past the kitchen.

“If I recall correctly, my dear, you were about to tell me about your outing and what you thought of my suggested schedule.” He led Will past the study and the ballroom, and into the library. Will’s eyes widened with childish wonder as he slowed to take in the room. Twice, if not three times the size of the ballroom floor the library was massive, with walls that seemed to extend into the sky. Any available surface - from shelves in the walls to end tables next to chairs - was covered in books. He could tell that everything was organized to perfection, and yet seeing the little stacks of overflow books piled on the tables made Will smile. It was the exact combination of messy and organized he would expect from Hannibal. When his eyes finally returned to Hannibal he cleared his throat, walking over to sit next to him on one of the window seats.

“Yes. I, unfortunately, was only able to visit with one person today, but she was wonderful and very insightful. The trip there and back let me see more of the town, so that was an enjoyable bonus. And I do think your schedule would be a preferable beginning. You’re right in that I need to ease into this, so thank you for understanding.”

“Of course, Darling. I want you to be the happiest you can possibly be here. So please don’t hesitate to talk to me about anything that’s on your mind. You’re not one of my subjects, you’re my equal, my partner, and my beloved. Ask, and whatever it is you desire will be yours.” Will’s blush stirred Hannibal’s pride, pleased he could pull such a reaction from his love. Normally the dead can’t blush, as it is caused by blood, something they lack. But his beautiful creature with the spark of life still in his chest was able to do what most of the dead couldn’t, and that made Hannibal sinfully proud. Will didn’t respond to this proclamation directly, still not used to receiving such compliments and not knowing the proper way to reply. Instead, he took up the offer of discussing what’s on his mind.

“Hannibal. Do you mind explaining why the outings are so important? I mean, some of the reasons are obvious: establishing a relationship to help build community, respect, and loyalty between me and the people is at the top. But what else? You wouldn’t have put such an emphasis on this if that was the only reason.”

“You are brilliant, love.” Hannibal smiled, openly adoring Will. “You’re right, there are additional reasons. The most important one being that I can’t always be here to help you adjust to this new life. I do have responsibilities, duties, that require my attention. While I’m gone you will be left in charge. Any issues will be brought to you to be dealt with, and you will still be expected to hold the traditional feasts and events.” Hannibal gently reached out to run his hand soothingly through Will’s curls when his love’s eyes slowly widened in fear and intimidation. “I won’t be called away for my duties for a little while longer, don’t worry darling, we still have time to prepare you for all this. That said, I hoped that these outings would establish relationships between you and some of our older members. Individuals who you could rely on for counsel, advice, and support in my absence. They would be able to instruct you on how events and ceremonies proceeded, previous resolutions to recurrent problems, and answer any questions that may arise about how everything works here. Does that sound agreeable?”

“Yes, that does. I actually planned on creating my own advisory group, so I’m relieved we are on the same page. And good news, I believe I got lucky today in that the person I visited would be a wonderful first addition to such a group.”

“Well then, by all means, enlighten me. Who was it you met today?”

“Auntie M, or Mimi. I believe I’m remembering that correctly.”

“Ah yes, so you’ve met Mira Greenwald. Delightful woman, really. Did she offer you anything to eat or drink?” At the sight of Will’s small smile and slight nod, Hannibal continued, “It is common knowledge that you cannot visit the Great Auntie ‘M’ without leaving either full or drunk. And mind you, both of those are impossible to achieve for the dead.” Taken completely unaware by Hannibal’s comment, Will burst into a fit of laughter, pleasing Hannibal immensely.

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Everyone here has dubbed her the resident grandma. She knows everyone by name, and is always up to date on exactly what is going on with any given person at any given time.” Hannibal leaned closer to Will, lowering his voice - playfulness in his eyes. “She knows all the gossip and drama in every house, Will. If you ever need information about anything, she would certainly be the one to go to. You’ve made a wonderful choice for a first addition.”

They were quiet for a while after that. Will remembering his visit, soft laughter escaping his chest every so often, and Hannibal simply indulging in the presence and laughter of the man next to him. When Will’s laughter finally faded to just a smile, Hannibal pulled a random book off the closest shelf and began to read as Will snuggled into his side, content to relax against him. Neither spoke again until Hannibal closed the book gently, having finished.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, Hannibal. For earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I’m sorry.” The words were whispered without Will opening his eyes as if his internal strength would dissipate if he opened them.

“While I accept your apology, my dear, I must apologize as well. I was rushing you into something you clearly were not ready for, and instead of calmly discussing it with you I inadvertently provoked you into an argument. Your behavior, therefore, was an understandable reaction. Your apology is unnecessary, but I am grateful all the same.” Will finally opened his eyes, shifting until his head moved from Hannibal’s shoulder to his lap so he could look up at him. He smiled, tentative and shy.

“Thank you for your apology too. If you want, we could try having that conversation again. Now that we are both a little calmer.” His voice was soft as if he was worried Hannibal would decline his offer.

“Now, love? Are you sure? We have enough time to wait until tomorrow if you would prefer to think on it.”

“My walk was sufficient for that. I’m okay with now if you are as well.”

“Now it is then. If I may suggest, I believe this conversation might have a better outcome if you asked questions I answered, rather than me attempting to convince you again.” Will closed his eyes with a hum, thinking of how he wanted to begin. Hannibal waited patiently.

“I have many questions, Hannibal. Some about the Feasts, others about your past and this world I’ve found myself in. Hopefully one day I will have answers to them all, but for now, I shall focus on the Feast as that’s what we agreed on.” Hannibal nodded, beginning to play with Will’s hair, taking full advantage of his love’s current lounging position.

“Whenever you’re ready, Will.”

“When I visited Mimi,” he began, lulled into a warm security by Hannibal’s hand in his hair, “I asked her to explain the Feast to me in more detail. She told me in a not very subtle but still roundabout way that it was your place, not her’s, to tell me the finer details.” Hannibal chuckles at this. That was Mira’s signature in conversation: she always makes sure you got her message, but she’s as direct as she is elusive. “She did manage to inform me, though,” Will continued, “that you’re not actually serving _souls_. But like a different species? I’m still kind of confused. She said they were like demons and were an infestation. But I still want to know why you don’t just eat animal souls? Are there none here?”

“Animals have souls too, and they do come here. I just keep all of them, except for pets, in their own section of our Realm. I’ll take you to visit them soon if you’d like.” Will’s smile was answer enough so Hannibal continued on. “It’s easier this way, they have their own habitats and are not being bothered by human souls. In regards to meals, we don’t consume animal souls for a few reasons. First, you can’t reproduce in this Realm. Nothing can. Reproduction is a form of life and no life exists here.” Hannibal paused for a moment, eyes studying Will’s face, grateful his eyes were still closed before his gaze settled on his heart. The hand in Will’s hair never stopped but his free hand settled gently over Will’s chest. Hannibal could still feel the soft, faint beat of Will’s heart. _Well, almost no life. I wonder, Will. Are you even aware of the spark you carry within you, or am I the only one who can feel your heartbeat? As faint and delicate as a thread from a silkworm_ , he mused before continuing. “Because animals do not reproduce down here we have a limited number and a vast amount of people. I would hate for a double extinction to occur. Second, Mira was correct. The _things_ I use for the feasts are not human, nor are they animals. In fact, they are so utterly different they are the only things that can _grow_. They have the ability to divide and clone themselves in order to increase their numbers. By feeding on them, I manage to keep their numbers down low enough to where they can’t cause a problem.”

“What are they, Hannibal?”

“Demons, monsters, nightmares. You have many names for these creatures on Earth, but ultimately, here they are just contorted matter. They are the remains of people who committed such acts here and on Earth that their soul became so twisted it stopped being human. They can not talk, think, or communicate rationally. They have no solid physical form but morph into any shape they please. Occasionally one will slip back to Earth and I will have to go retrieve it. This is where most of your monster myths come from. Hellhounds, the Hydra, werewolves, vampires, and so on. They are more or less the equivalent of a rabid, feral animal, except these can shapeshift. Once turned they cannot be saved, and they can only be turned by their own hand. It is not something I could force upon a soul. Do you understand now, Will?”

“So monsters are real...”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not eating actual souls?”

“No. We only eat the rude.”

“ _Hannibal._ ”

“Apologies darling. But that is how it usually works. I only have one rule here as you are well aware. But that one rule has quite the definition and guidelines. The people here aren’t governed by their own, individual perceptions of what ‘rudeness’ is. They follow my definition. I was very selective in my wording and view of what does and doesn’t qualify. Because of this, those who arrive here and break my rule are usually the ones who have already broken it above too, and they eventually become a monster. They ultimately punish themselves for their own behavior, as it is their behavior that transforms them.”

“Sounds like a form of freedom, in a way.”

“It is insanity, Will.”

“Oh, no mistake. I wasn’t arguing against that at all. But if you look at the whole picture, you have these people who commit acts so dark it stains their soul. They have this inner idea of who they are and what freedom means to them. So when they arrive and find that even in death they are not free how they wish to be, they force it. They break the rule and create the freedom they longed so desperately for. And in the process they begin to change, evolve. Eventually becoming a new being, one that is not subjected to your rule. One that by its very nature aligns itself with who they wanted to be. A thing that can take any form, and do anything. They may not get to live in our society, and their becoming may turn them into rabid monsters. But it is what they wanted, what they chose. And there is a sense of beauty and freedom in that choice.”

“You find beauty in beasts, Will?”

“I _see_ beauty in how they have a _choice_ to _live_ _free_. Even if that life is not one I would desire, they still were allowed their rightful becoming in death.”

“You truly are remarkable, darling.”

“If you recall, I had a becoming of my own.”

“That, you beautiful creature, is something I could _never_ forget.”

“Were you proud of me?”

“ _Immensely_ , _Carissime_.”

“Remind me? Take me to bed, Hannibal.”

* * *

 


End file.
